


the devil you don't

by tanyart



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, M/M, Political Alliances, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 03:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18792142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: Mithrax prepares for his mission.(Spoilers for Zero Hour)





	the devil you don't

Mithrax knows of Shiro-4, the Fallen assassin, the kell killer. Most of what he has heard comes from the mouths of his own people — a machine ghoul that wears a patchwork cloak of House Banners, a nightmare that has made even the most vicious barons wary for their own lives.

Mithrax never imagines he would be speaking with Shiro-4 himself, albeit through a video feed under the supervision of his two Guardian friends.

“Devils armor,” Shiro-4 repeats. His tone is polite. He gives Mithrax an inquiring glance.

The Hunter by Mithrax’s side smiles, leaning slightly within his ghost’s sightlines. Mithrax doesn’t think the Hunter is deliberately trying to block him from Shiro-4’s view, but Mithrax senses a certain level of… _shielding_.

“Yessir. Thought you might have a spare set for Mithrax to wear.”

“Can I ask why?”

Again, polite. This time, Mithrax steps forward and addresses Shiro-4 himself. He begins to give a brief outline of their plan, of Eramis, and their resources. He likes to think his own tone is polite.

Shiro-4 interrupts midway through his explanation. He says, in a near perfect High Devils accent, “You can use your own language.”

Mithrax almost misses it — the barest hint of a taunt, a small curl of smugness in his words. No honorifics used, despite the captain’s armaments Mithrax wears. Shiro-4 doesn’t interrupt out of kindness. He could have very well been mocking Mithrax or threatening him. Either seems likely.

Mithrax cannot afford to be petty but he sees Shiro's mix-matched cloak through the video feed and bitterness wells up inside him.

He continues speaking in Human.

It is not out of spite. It is what he has told the Warlock and Hunter before; _docked things do not word themselves_. It is, mostly, in theory, not out of spite.

And Shiro-4 doesn’t interrupt again until Mithrax is finished.

In the end, Shiro-4 lifts his chin, the bright core of his mouth glittering. “Sure. I have a couple of sets available. ‘Fraid I stashed most of my trophies underwater on Venus. I can have it delivered within the week, Vex nonsense permitting.”

Mithrax hides his surprise. He murmurs his thanks as the Hunter jumps back in to give Shiro the rest of their report. It is only until after Shiro-4 signs off that Mithrax feels the insulting sting of _trophies_.

"Well, that was easy," the Hunter says. “We best get moving. He only gave you a week.”

The Warlock glances at them, having kept silent until now. She snorts and goes back to her datapad, muttering _‘Hunters’_ as she does.

Mithrax pauses. This isn’t his first time being baffled by Guardian ways. He feels as if he’ll be learning forever. Gathering all the patience he can muster, he turns to the Hunter.

The Hunter shrugs. "You need to steal the Devils armor from him."

“Why? Shiro-4 says one week, armor will come.”

"It'll earn his respect way more than if you wait for him to give it to you. Why else would Shiro tell us to wait a week?"

"I assume because Shiro-4 is busy with Vanguard-kell."

The Hunter waves him off with an air of certainty that worries Mithrax more than reassures him. "Nah. _Nah._ We gotta steal it. He basically _told_ us to steal the armor from him.”

Mithrax must look skeptical, because the Hunter blows out air from his mouth in an expression of exasperation.

“There was no reason why Shiro would’ve have told us his stash was on Venus,” he says, “And I don’t know about you, but _underwater_ was a very generous hint, for a Hunter.”

The Warlock tilts her head. “I believe Shiro means to test you, Mithrax.”

As a gesture of good will or insult, Mithrax wants to ask, but from the hopeful way his fireteam looks, he will believe the former. At the very least, a challenge feels like familiar territory. Much like the ways of old.

“Eia,” he says, rising up to enter the new coordinates for his skiff. “Then I accept.”

 

* * *

 

 

A week later, Shiro-4 enters the safehouse on Venus and finds everything as he’d left it. No tripped alarms, no traps, nothing out of place. He does a cursory scan just in case and, after a moment, his Ghost does confirm a single water-stained bootprint on the floor near the entrance.

Venus’ rain is notoriously _acidic_. And red. But Shiro expects that.

What’s interesting about the bootprint is that it’s not human. It’s definitely a Fallen. A captain, most likely.

Shiro’s jaw tweaks a bit, metal wanting to pull into a frown. He knows Mithrax had help, which goes to say a lot about the Hunter on his fireteam. Interesting. His gaze lands on the cache in the back of the room. He walks over to it, punches in the code, and the lid flips open.

The cache is half empty. One of his Devil’s captain armor sets is gone, the matching talon ornaments as well. Shiro isn’t surprised that _something_ is missing, but he _is_ surprised that the safehouse hadn’t been emptied out entirely. Most Fallen would’ve picked the place clean, but maybe the Hunter had stopped Mithrax.

“He just had to take the set with the gold inlay, huh,” Shiro says dryly.

“Well, so did you, when you took it for yourself,” his Ghost says.

Shiro shuts the cache with a snap. He’s got more important things to think about, and he’ll have to move the safehouse to a different location later. Ah, well. The price of scouting, and he supposed he should consider himself lucky he only had to tally up the loss of a gold-plated Devils armor set.

Shiro huffs, taking the rebuke as deserved. “Got me there.”

 

 

From what the Vanguard tells him, Mission: Zero Hour is a success. Well. Mostly a success. Considering that a Fallen pirate had managed to drill a hole right into the Cryptarch Vault, Shiro is willing to call it a _learning-experience-with-minimal-consequences_. Eramis hadn’t been a part of his assignments, but he still feels rattled by it. For a violent subset of the Fallen to get inside the Tower Ruins _this close_ — it’s a sure sign for security to upgrade their systems and get their act together.

Shiro glances around the Tower’s newest conference room. It’s rare for the Vanguard call on him to appear in person. Ikora is as stately as ever but Zavala looks guarded, more so than usual.

And Cayde’s empty spot between them still makes Shiro _mad_. Not at anyone in particular, now that Uldren’s dead, but just… angry, and the feeling of being tired of it.

“So… if they were going for the Cryptarch Vault, they must’ve been trying to steal something specific,” Shiro says, looking at them carefully. He isn’t going to play stupid. They called him here for a reason. Ikora opens her mouth but Shiro is hit by the sudden realization so fast he hisses, sharp. Of course. Eramis is the closest thing the Devils have to a Kell. “They were after SIVA.”

“And they were stopped,” Ikora says, and it sounds like she is trying to reassure him. Shiro prickles at the thought. “Thanks to Mithrax’s plan, he and his crew were able to intercept Eramis.”

Shiro stares at her. “And where’s _my_ gun now?”

He’s met with a breath of silence. Then, Zavala clears his throat.

“Ah. Shiro, the Vanguard do have a request,” Zavala begins. “The reason why we called you in…”

It is, probably, the worst time for Mithrax to transmat next to him. Shiro turns, quick enough to assess that all four hands are empty, quick enough to perceive that Mithrax is unarmed — and quick enough to see that Mithrax is still wearing the red and gold Devils armor he took from Shiro.

Shiro doesn’t go for his gun or knife. He’s too disciplined for that, but for one uncharitable moment, he _wishes_.

He can feel Ikora and Zavala’s gazes on him. Cayde probably would’ve winked.

Shiro adjusts his stance into something less aggressive. More neutral. To his satisfaction, Mithrax looks equally wary, covered in red and gold, the metal and cloth a little dirty but still in good condition.

“You didn’t have to go through the trouble of returning the armor personally,” Shiro tells him, light, “Could’ve left it with the postmaster.”

Mithrax’s eyes flicker. He holds out his two primary arms, transmat shimmering, and Outbreak Prime drops into his claws.

The gun isn’t pointed at him, but it might’ve well have been. Shiro tenses, face twisting into a scowl, even as Mithrax holds up two secondary hands as a human gesture of peace.

“I have played your Hunters’ games and so now you will do me the honor of playing mine,” Mithrax says, addressing Shiro in High Devils. Two knives appear in his secondary hands, both blades pointed to his feet. He bows, low, and offers the gun. “Velask, Shiro-4.”

Shiro almost draws back. He tempted to, just to dig the insult in, but he doesn’t have to look at Ikora and Zavala to know they _want_ him to play nice. Deep down, he knows what Mithrax offers is invaluable, almost more than the gun. Certainly the Vanguard could’ve forcefully taken back Outbreak Prime, whether or not Mithrax wanted it for himself.

Mithrax lifts his head, not breaking eye contact. Slowly, he lays Outbreak Prime at Shiro’s feet.

“I should very much like us to be allies,” Mithrax says, formal in every way. “I am Misraaks.”

All eyes are on him. Shiro steels himself. If the Vanguard want an alliance with an errant Fallen captain then so be it.

“Velask, Misraaks,” Shiro replies, choosing to use the proper Eliksni pronunciation. Human organic mouths can’t quite manage the growling tones. Exos tend to have more leeway, and Shiro will gladly put in the effort for a subtle threat.

He _does_ mean it to be a threat or a taunt, but Mithrax’s eyes light up at the sound of his name. Shiro grimaces. Maybe his Eliksni intonations need work.

“I look forward to working with you, Shiro-4,” Mithrax says. He nods to Ikora and Zavala before departing in a flash of transmat light.

Shiro stares, gloomy. He’d been set up. And to add insult to injury, Mithrax had left without returning the Devils armor. Not that Shiro had a real use for the set.

“I believe you have your gun back now,” Ikora says, hands clasping behind her.

The fact that she had them out at all, Shiro almost thinks she might’ve expected trouble. From Mithrax or himself, he can’t tell.

“Guess so,” he says, bending down to pick it up.


End file.
